Nobody's Ever Done That For Me
by you'vegotthis
Summary: A sexy little romp leading up to 'The Lives of Others.'
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I outlined other stories for the Castle ficathon, but I threw them all out in favor of a snow story in the middle of summer. Do not look for a case. Do not look for serious writing. Avoid grammar or spelling expectations. Don't worry dear reader, I always finish my tales, and this will be no different. The best news is that each chapter is only USD $1, unless they are exciting or sexy, then they will be USD $2 OR you could just leave a review, then everything you read is free.

Nobody's Ever Done That for Me. A romp leading up to 'The Lives of Others.' Castle fic-a-thon 2013.

* * *

He slides his prize across the table to her side.

"What's this?" She glances at the nondescript white envelope before eyeing him. His expression leaves no doubt, it's a good surprise. Giving gifts has got to be his love language, every time the writer gives her something there's such glee written across his face.

"Open it."

Inside is a doodle of a snowman, a tiny plus sign, and next to that, a rabbit.

"Are you trying to tell me something?"

He nods, "you're the detective."

Her lips quirk as she sits back to study him, and the drawing. "You've decided to become a magician? Top hat and a rabbit? I completely support you. Let me know when your first show is."

He leans in, ready to spar.

"Oh Kate, you saw my magic show," he says with a quirk of his brow, "last night in fact. And you know you have free admission every night. Guess again."

It's taking quite an effort to keep the amusement off her face. She sighs and leans in.

"Okay, a chubby snowman and a bunny. You're concerned about your weight?"

He gapes at her, his outrage drawing a laugh from her that melodically fills the space.

"Why Mr. Castle," she purrs, her fingers wrapping around the hand that rests on the table in front of her, "are you denying me the right to make ridiculous leaps in logic?"

"Hey, my leaps are not insulting . . ."

"Yes, Castle," she interrupts before he can get into his rant, "yes, I'll go skiing with you next weekend. And no, I will not, nor will I ever be, a snow bunny."

"That is not . . . You knew?"

"Heard you making reservations earlier," she smiles, tapping the side of her head, "detective, remember?" Responding to his expression, her smile gets wider. One of her dazzling, full teeth, reserved-for-only-him smiles and he feels the surge of admiration for the way she's just played him.

"Well I wasn't implying that _you_ were the snow bunny. I happened to be attractive and manly on the slopes."

"Uh-huh." Her fingers moving to play with his, her thumb circling subconsciously.

"What? You'll see Kate Beckett. I have moves. Even outside the bedroom."

"Shut up and finish your coffee," she says taking a sip herself before adding, "we're going to be late for the magic show."

* * *

On the way to Vermont, she decides she will never tell him she loves it when he drives.

Mostly because it means she gets to do the looking. The front seat of his Mercedes is decked out to make it a comfortable ride, with a wide armrest between them that makes it easy to hold hands.

Besides, if his hands are occupied she still has one free to mess with the radio.

"How come when you drive, you tell me the driver is in charge of the radio, and when I drive, you still get to control it?"

"Castle, this is a completely fair system. Let me explain it again. At work, the driver is in charge. When we are on vacation, it's the passenger."

He squeezes her fingers and then brings them in to playfully bite her knuckle.

"You never drive when we are on vacation."

* * *

Four hours of bickering over maple syrup stops, coffee stops, cheddar cheese stops, and she's questioning her entire driving theory.

And then they arrive.

Stowe, Vermont, the picturesque ski town nestled at the base of impressive snow covered peaks. It screams of hot chocolate, fur lined boots, and inviting smoking drifts from brick chimneys. He's obviously spared no expense on their room. It's wide and deep with windows looking out onto the busy slopes. A hot tub steams from its open place in the room. A fireplace graces another corner.

"Your couples massage is scheduled for nine, Mr. Castle," the concierge finishes his sweep of the amenities.

She smirks at him.

"Perfect. Thank you." And then he's closing the door behind the man and turning his back to lean against it.

"So," she says fingering the green silky spread on the king size bed, "what did you want to do first, Mr. Castle?"

* * *

She rakes her nails down his naked ribs as he leans over her for the bedside phone to order their lunch.

* * *

"You coming, Castle?" She's suited up and ready to go.

He purses his lips and he lets her see the innuendo he's holding back like a pepper-induced sneeze. _Already did_, isn't so much spoken as it's in the air.

"You are 15-year-old, Castle. Now," she grabs at his scarf, knotting it a little tighter at his neck and stealing a kiss, "let me see these magic moves you claim to have. The ones you supposedly do outside the bedroom?"

"Relax Kate, we have all weekend," gently zipping the top few inches of her parka so the tab touches her chin, "now, let me grab my poles, we've got a lift to ride."

And then it's Kate's turn to let him see the innuendo she's holding back.

Neither one of them can contain the euphoric laughing that comes from the sumo-style snuggling they do riding the ski lift.

* * *

Their first run brings out her natural athleticism and his ADD.

"Did you see that guy?" he says sloshing up to her near the bottom, "he did a 360 off that mogul!" He's drawing her attention to the group of 20-somethings tempting their fate above them on the hill. Admiration shining on his face, like a baby discovering his toes.

They watch a moment while a second skier twists mid-air to reach back and touch his ski, he lands and waves his arms, victory-style.

"Wow!" Is all her boy-man can manage before she nudges him with one of her poles.

"Castle, come on, you go first this time," she pushes, "I want to watch your moves, not a bunch of kids."

He pushes off reluctantly and she watches his smooth form a moment. He's not all goof-ball, he definitely makes a nice cut from behind. And then she's off, following him for a change.

* * *

By the end of their second run Mr. Social has ingratiated himself to the group of show-offs and she's content to finish the run alone, watching him from a little table at the bottom of the hill in the outdoor coffee shop where she's sipping some fine cocoa. As a detective, she has the people watching part down, but the writer has taught her to make up a good story.

Speaking of which, she returns his smile and wave from afar and scans the crowds dotting the hillside.

At present, she's fixated on the two ski patrollers in red parkas. They are standing over a teenage girl dressed completely in pink who lies on the ground rocking herself while holding her leg. Beckett thinks it might be serious until a young guy sporting neon green skis plops down next to her. It takes all of three minutes before the girl allows him to help her to her feet, broken leg miraculously healed.

_Teenage girls and their melodrama_. A smile spreads across the detective's face. And then she glances up, just in time to see her partner launch himself off the mogul. In time to see his skis impressively cross behind him as he reaches back to mimic the move of the younger man from earlier in the day.

Just in time to see he doesn't have enough height to make a clean landing.

* * *

Clearly she's better at running in high heels than in ski boots _up_ a mountain.

"Castle!" She can't help calling out his name as she struggles to reach him. The red parkas ski down to his ski-equipment-laden debris field about the same moment she does.

"Castle? Oh my god, are you okay?" She falls into the space beside him.

One of the ski patrollers is already checking his pulse while the other radios, "basket and transport lift 2, post 5."

Something between a groan and a growl escapes him and he rolls a bit to sit up. The effort doesn't last long before he throws himself backward into the snow, fist-to-mouth in pain.

"Ow, shit, my leg."

She can see how his leg is distorted, bile rising involuntarily. This is bad.

* * *

There's gravel in his voice each time he says, "I'm sorry, Kate." She quiets him every time with a stroke of her finger to his eyebrow or a squeeze of his hand.

Kate climbs up into the ambulance behind the paramedic, an older man, grandfatherly, in that wisdom kind of way.

"Looks like you've done a number on that leg of yours, Rick," he says, tucking in a second blanket. "Don't you worry, I know a guy down at the hospital, he's a leg man, sees these kind of injuries all the time," and then he glances at Kate, "think you two might have something in common, Rick, I see you're a leg man too."

Beckett meets Castle's eyes and she gives him a weak smile before surprising him, "Yeah, well, I guess it's a good thing that I prefer asses myself."

For the first time, he relaxes, "Well then I guess it's a good thing I didn't break mine."

* * *

Dr. Williams flips the light on the wall unit and slides the x-ray so they can see. "Looks like a broken patella or kneecap. Actually, it's a pretty clean break, I've seen a lot worse."

The fuzzy white disk-shaped image has a clear dark thunderbolt through the middle, and he squints to see it from the bed. Kate, however, unlinks their fingers and rises from the bedside chair to move in closer on both the picture and the doctor.

"So what do we do?"

"He'll need surgery. Takes me a few hours but I'll use tension bands to pull the bone together under general anesthesia, check for any muscle tears. We'll monitor him post-surgery and then release him. No standing or walking for at least the first two weeks, he'll need someone to help him at home. The discharge nurse will help you find a therapist close to where you live."

He considers the words and can't help the swallow of emotion, "Are there long term . . ."

"No, Mr. Castle, providing everything goes well, you'll have a scar on your knee and a story to tell to your grandchildren. Keep up with your therapy and we'll be sure and get you the good kind of pain medications. I'd like to keep you here overnight, we'll control the swelling and do the surgery first thing tomorrow, okay?"

* * *

After a flurry of activity, they are finally alone in his florescent lit hospital room.

"Kate, I'm really sorry about all of this," he closes his eyes a long moment, "never meant to ruin our weekend."

"I think those nice drugs the nurse gave you are starting to kick in," she strokes his brow, "I'll call Alexis and Martha and we'll get you back to the city." His hand comes up to cup her elbow, holding her to him, his thumb stroking her arm.

"I had snow bunny plans for you, Kate."

"I had snow bunny plans for you too, bud." She leans over to plant a kiss on his forehead. "Rest, okay?"

But he's already out.


	2. Chapter 2

Nobody's Ever Done That For Me, chapter 2.

* * *

"Is he okay?" Alexis's tone betrays her emotion. "Should I come up?"

"He's fine Alexis, he'll have surgery and then some recovery time, he'll need you more when I bring him home, don't miss any classes, okay? We can work out a schedule later."

There's a pause. The girl obviously has something more to say, and Kate gives her the space.

"Kate, I'm so glad you're there with him. I used to worry about who would take care of him after I moved out."

_Wow._

* * *

It takes more time than she expected at the hotel. The man made a lot of plans for them, dinner, massages, even a helicopter tour over the mountains, and now, there are more cancellations to make than a broadcasting company at the end of television season. She packs the few things they've spread around the room. There's more than a little regret when she spies her new lingerie, the set Castle hasn't seen yet. Snow bunny would have to wait. It was probably good that he didn't have that expectation now.

One last compulsive look under the bed yields his underwear, and she remembers she needs to hunt down his insurance card in his wallet among the clothes in the bag from the hospital. That's when she finds it.

A single page print-out with both their names on it.

He didn't think she'd notice? He didn't think she'd make her own plans? She pockets it for later.

* * *

The bellboy brings the Mercedes around and loads the bags for her to bring to the hospital. As if not getting to spend the night were bad enough, she has to drive . . . on vacation.

She finds him asleep and settles in for the night, but is up early the next morning, the lumpy recliner bed making it an easy decision. When she checks on her partner, she finds his mouth open, drooling a little, and texts Alexis and Martha the picture. If anything will prove to them he's fine, it's this.

He stirs a little and blinks catching her staring down at him, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Hey."

"Hey," she returns and moves to sit facing him on the edge of the bed. He swipes at his mouth. "Not supposed to give you any water before surgery, but I bet you can have some ice chips, want me to go find you some?"

"Are they minty fresh?" He's blinking a lot.

"No but I'll still risk it," she leans over him and pecks him on the lips. "You okay? Hurt much?"

"No," he says rubbing his face, and then stopping as he remembers, "How'd Alexis take the news?"

"She wanted to come but I told her to stay at school, you'll need her more later."

_Later, when he can't do anything for himself._

That makes him wonder.

* * *

"Ms. Beckett?" she glances up from her magazine as a nurse in pink scrubs approaches her. "Mr. Castle's out of surgery and resting well in recovery, the doctor thought you might want to know. He'll be out in a minute to speak with you."

She lets go of a breath she didn't know she was holding, when did she get so tense?

"When can I take him home?" she murmurs to the doctor as she runs her fingers through Castle's hair. He's fallen back to sleep on her, mid-conversation.

"I think it's wise we keep him here a few more hours. If everything continues to go well, I'd say later this afternoon at the earliest. He can follow up with his regular doctor when he gets home. Do you have arrangements in the city?"

Yeah, but she's going to need to get more than a weekend bag from her apartment.

* * *

"Kate dear, don't you worry, you just bring him home, we have the rest covered. I can stay with him around Alexis's class schedule," Martha coos.

"I guess that leaves me with night duty?" Why does it feel like she's asking permission from his mother?

"You want to stay and help, my dear? That would be lovely, I'm sure Richard will appreciate it. I'm afraid he has never been good at being laid up. Ah well, maybe the silver lining is the chapters he'll finish, darling. That'll keep him entertained."

* * *

Kate gets her first taste of Richard Castle on painkillers when she leans over him to adjust his pillow and he shifts his hands from her waist to her ass.

She thinks it's an accident until she pulls back to look at his face. A lopsided grin tells her he is feeling no pain.

"Hope you aren't doing that to the nurses," she scolds.

"Wait, you aren't a nurse?"

It's going to be a long recovery.

* * *

She has never in her life helped a man put on a pair of pajama pants after cutting off one of the legs, and it's about as awkward as it can get, and that's with another pair of hands helping her.

"Castle, lift your hips."

"That's what she said."

"Seriously," she turns to the nurse helping them, "that dosage thing, it's flexible, right?"

* * *

He sleeps in the back seat most of the way back to the city, which is good because it takes most of that time for Kate to explain everything to Lanie. She skips the part about being disappointed, he doesn't need to overhear that.

"So, you gonna stay with him and help take care of him?" Lanie nudges.

"I plan to. Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh girl, you are in it deep."

"Why? Because I want to take care of my partner?"

"Girl, you know what this says about your relationship. This is long term stuff. This is I-have-a-vested-interest-in-your-health-because-I' m-gonna-be-with-you-forever stuff."

"So what if it does?"

"Look at you, all diving in."

"Yeah, well, I thought I'd take Monday off work and then see how it goes from there."

* * *

Sunday afternoon traffic into the city is miserable. "Ka-ate," he sings from the back seat, "can you turn on some music? First program button?"

"Castle, I'm trying to negotiate traffic, we need to leave it on the news station."

"I thought when we were on vacation that the passenger got to pick?"

Damn, he's got her.

"Sure Castle, go ahead and change it to whatever you want." She knows there is no way with that leg he's going to make it to the radio buttons from the back seat. She smirks at him in the rearview mirror.

"Worst romantic weekend ever," she hears him whisper.

* * *

There's a whole crowd to greet him on the sidewalk in front of his building, wheelchair at the ready. Unfortunately it's Kate that's left to park the car and carry up the bags. His daughter is still fawning all over him when she finally makes it through the door of the loft.

"Kate, darling," his mother comes to relieve her of the bags, "thank you so much for bringing him home. What a weekend you two have had! And Richard was just telling us how it happened, people should look where they are going!"

She gives him a quizzical look. His sheepish failure to meet her eye melts her heart a little.

"Oh, yes Martha, people definitely do stupid things. But it doesn't matter anymore. We can forgive a little foolishness."

* * *

When his mother and daughter have said their goodnights, she pulls the covers up to his chin and pecks him on the lips. He surprises her by gripping her hands and holding them between his.

"You leaving?"

"No Castle, I'm staying. Somebody has to get you to the doctor's office tomorrow. And that somebody ought to know what really happened to you."

"Kate, about that . . ."

"Castle, it really doesn't matter," she pecks his lips again, "besides, I think its punishment enough to have one of us knowing the real story."

"Creative license. And did you just say 'one of us'? You are an 'us' now?" He says sleepily.

"Hmm, you want me to be part of your . . . ?" _Family. _

"Yeah, you know I do."

"Then you should have expected that I would have made plans for your birthday, you didn't have to make them yourself."

"What are you talking . . ." and then he sees the paper she's slipped from her back pocket. Ticket confirmation for Bora-Bora. "Oh no, I totally forgot about that, and there's no way I'm going to be able to go with my leg. That was supposed to be a surprise for both of us." His fist clenches at his forehead as he tilts his head back, exasperated.

"Okay, you need to sleep, that didn't make any sense."

"Yes, it did. I was supposed to surprise you with it and you were supposed to be all happy about it and then surprise me back."

"What?"

"You know . . . with all your sexy tricks? Your ice cube thing, the other stuff, you've got more stuff Kate, I _know_ you do."

"Oh my god," she says leaning away from him, "you think paying for a vacation means I need to . . . put out? Are you kidding me?"

He's grabbed her arm before she can move away, "Wait, that's not what I meant." He sits up to pull her closer, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, forcing a crossed-arm Beckett into a stiff embrace. And then he kisses the side of her long neck.

"I just meant that we could have both enjoyed ourselves, you know?" Damn, he always undoes her when he leans his forehead into hers. "Like partners should?"

"Fine, Castle, I know what you are saying, but I would have liked to make my own arrangements for your birthday. Who does that anyway? Makes their own plans for their birthday? You are supposed to let people that care _about_ you take care _of_ you."

He raises an eyebrow at her.

For a heartbeat, there's a speck on the carpet that just became the most fascinating thing in the room for Kate.

"I'm going to take a shower," she finally says, "you go to sleep."

But he doesn't release her hand. Kisses her knuckles as she rises and holds her fingers to his heart for a moment.

* * *

It's a massive undertaking to get him out of bed and ready for the doctor's office. Even with the wheelchair. He wants a shower, but there is no way she can undertake that event when man-to-wheelchair and wheelchair-to-breakfast table was so taxing. Who knew plush carpet would be such an obstacle?

She brings him his coffee. She brings him his paper. She brings him his favorite pair of pants.

"Whoa, what are you doing with those?" He watches as she hunts through the kitchen drawer, finally holding up a pair of scissors.

"Are you kidding? Those are designer. You can't just go around cutting up a man's pants."

"Fine, Castle, I'm sure you won't mind wearing two day old pajamas to the doctor."

A short staring contest ensues, with no clear winner.

"I think there's a pair of sweat pants in my closet. Second drawer in the middle section."

He tries to stand up so she can help him with the pants. It ends badly.

"You aren't supposed to stand. Now, just lift up your hips and I'll pull them off." He feels like a child and it's written all over his face.

But then she's leaning over him pulling new boxers and newly tailored sweatpants onto his body and she takes a moment to make sure her fingers let him know she's there, finally whispering in his ear, "There, sexy, all finished."

"I really need to pee."

* * *

He hits his hand hard on the door frame trying to wheel his way out of his own loft.

In the garage she has all four doors open on the car. He's backed himself into the rear seat, but she discovers he is too heavy to drag him all the way in so he fits with his leg sticking straight out.

"Maybe if you lay on your belly you can pull yourself across?" she suggests.

"Besides the humiliation factor, the stitches are in the front of my leg, Kate. How the hell did we do this last night?"

"Lots of help." She's trying again, both her hands wrapped under his arms and over his shoulders to pull, hard. She grunts and rests a moment with his upper body draped over her lap, trying to catch her breath.

"I take it back. I could never shoot you, Castle."

"What?"

She winces, trying to readjust him, exhaling out, "too hard to hide your body."

"Let me go, Kate, we need to try this another way."

* * *

The appointment location may only be five minutes away, but it's taking two hours to get there.

"Oh Mr. Castle, you were supposed to be here an hour ago," the chipper receptionist calls out, when they finally arrive.

He twists in his wheelchair to look up into the face of a sweaty, frazzled Kate Beckett, "I'll help you hide her body."

For the first time this morning, she smiles at him.


	3. Chapter 3

He absently reaches behind him to hand her the business card of the physical therapist as she rolls him out of the doctor's office.

"You'll need to wait until you are a few more days past your surgery, but these guys will have you in top form in no time, Rick," the doctor reassures them.

"Thank you."

The kind man pats Castle on the back as they move away, "Call if there are any problems, Kate. Try to behave yourself, Rick."

"You ready to tackle the car again, Beckett?"

"I think you're gonna need to buy me lunch, first."

* * *

It's on the early side for lunch, which is a good thing because it is a lot harder to manipulate the wheelchair in a restaurant full of chairs and tables. He's not sure how she would have managed it if there had been people in the way too. It's with an exasperated sigh that she plops down across from him.

"I'm sorry, Kate," he says as soon as the waiter takes their order.

"Castle, it's fine. I'm fine. Let's just eat and get you home, okay?" She wiggles to get to something in the front pocket of her jeans, emerging with a plastic baggie full of his pills.

"Take these."

"You packed pills for me?" He's looking at her like this is the most amazing thing she's ever done. Ever.

"Why is this such a shock to you? You needed to take them every four to six hours, it's been four hours, I didn't want to see you in pain."

He reaches across the table palm up, fingers wiggling.

* * *

He sleeps away the afternoon, and every time she checks on him, his hands slack against that broad chest, head turned to hide a half-smile, she thinks about snuggling up with him and losing herself in the day. But playing nursemaid has its chores.

She decides on a casserole for dinner, one of those condensed soup, chicken and rice one-pan inspirations. It isn't Martha Stewart, but it is enough for four, and fast.

She calls the physical therapist's office, and when she discovers they have home service, she can't give out his address fast enough. They pass along the information for a medical equipment rental place.

Two hours later and she's buzzing up a guy with a better wheelchair, a shower chair, and sundry items that no woman trapped with an invalid man should be without.

The rest of the day is devoted to unpacking their suitcases, making a list of things she needs from her apartment, the grocery store, the pharmacy.

By five, she's afraid he won't sleep tonight if he keeps up his power nap.

* * *

He feels her warm fingers over his, hears her lilting voice call his name. It's nice. She's nice. He opens his eyes for just a moment. She's pretty. He wiggles his shoulders a little deeper into the pillow, content to linger in the half-step.

"Castle?"

"Kate," the sleepy growl is followed by a full smile, eyes still closed.

"Dinner's made, can I help you with a shower, Mr. Castle?"

He squeezes his closed eyes tighter, "Am I dreaming? Cause if I am, I don't wanna wake up."

She takes in a big breath and sighs, "Come on, it's time to get up." He finally opens his eyes to really look at her.

"Or time for you to come down,"he pats her side of the bed,"come lay with me, Kate."

"I would love to, but you haven't had a shower in three days and your mother and daughter will be home any minute now. Can you make an effort, please?"

He would do anything for Kate Beckett, including letting her help him in the shower.

* * *

They've already discovered that the new wheelchair doesn't fit through the bathroom door any better than the old one did.

There is nothing more humiliating than Kate Beckett hovering to catch you when the facilities call and the pain killers make you sway like a drunk man.

"This is _so_ not sexy," he whines, leaning against the wall for support.

"Sexy or not, I think there are anatomical parts of you that your daughter and mother do not need to be traumatized by seeing."

"Thank you. I didn't think this could get any worse."

"Let's just get you in the shower, okay?"

He's never been so grateful for the size of his shower. Kate already has a shower chair and one of the shower heads out of its holder. He gets the t-shirt off over his head, tosses it, and starts on the waistband of his pants, finally figuring out the easiest way to get them off over the soft cast. It's quite an effort and it has his full attention until he glances up to see Kate stepping in with him. She's not wearing anything.

"Uh, Kate?"

"Didn't want to get my clothes wet, that was the last outfit I have here that's clean. I need to run home tonight and pack some things."

"You don't need to wear clothes on my account," he says, openly disappointed when she steps out of his view.

And then she's running warm water over his hair, rubbing her hands through it to get it wet. It's nice. Very, very nice. Nimble fingers scrub shampoo above his ears, down his neck. "Umm, so good, Kate."

"Yeah? Tip back, I don't want to get it in your eyes."

Kate cradles his neck in one hand and rinses him with the showerhead with the other hand. When she finishes, he can hear the sounds of her squirting liquid from some container, and then her fingers are on his face, thumbs swiping under his eyes, circling his brow, over his jaw, down his neck. "Lean forward," she commands and then cups handfuls of water up to his face to rinse the soap away.

When she lets him sit up, he steals a kiss. Quick but full of devotion. It's Kate that pulls back first.

"Someone needs to brush his teeth," she teases, reaching to soap up a washcloth.

"Oh, sorry," he whispers, barely able to contain his emotion. She pushes him forward a bit, so he's leaning over at the waist, back exposed. A grunt escapes him.

"I hurt you?" she worries.

"No, never, just pulls on my thigh muscles a little."

"Can you stay like that a moment? So I can get your back?"

"Anything for you, Kate.

She scoffs at him, but the tender circles she makes across his shoulders and down the long column of his back tell him the feeling is mutual. It feels great. She's great. Kate rinses, pushes him back in the chair and starts on his chest. It is a lot more difficult to stay relaxed now that she's in his line of vision and so very tempting.

She feels his hand on her stomach, wrapped around her side, and the jolt of contact causes her to inhale sharply.

"Castle, I don't think we should start anything we can't finish, Martha and Alexis will be here any minute."

He moves hand up, cupping her breast, her gaping mouth all the encouragement he needs until she grabs his hand and uses the washcloth along the underside of his arm, a smirk crossing her face. Never one to be dissuaded, his other hand comes to her hip and she raises a brow at him.

"Mr. Castle, please keep your hands to yourself," she huffs.

"Detective Beckett, I just want to make sure someone is taking care of you as well as you are taking care of me." He's making small, suggestive circles with his thumb at her hip.

It earns him an eye roll.

When she turns on the showerhead to rinse him, she dials it down just a little to the cold side. His girlish shriek is not unexpected. Smugly satisfied she adjusts it back to a reasonable temperature and hands it to him.

"I think you can finish your own," she glances down at his lap,"nether parts. I'm going to get you something to wear."

He grabs her arm before she steps out, raw appreciation on his face, "thank you, Kate."

It earns him a peck on the lips and a reminder.

"Brush your teeth, Castle."

* * *

"That just leaves Friday afternoon," Kate says, huddled with his mother and daughter, pencil in hand.

"I have class."

"I have rehearsals, Friday evening performance, darling."

"And I can't leave the precinct until five."

"Hey, I can manage on my own for a few hours," he calls from his wheelchair in the living room. They banned him there a moment ago. It wasn't entirely fair. He doesn't understand their hesitation, he and Beckett have already mastered getting him in the car, how hard could it be to get him in her cruiser? He's already pointed out that if a suspect runs down hill, he and his wheelchair have the advantage.

"No," all three women reply simultaneously, not looking up from their huddle.

"I suppose I could skip class. It is only art history, nothing I can't catch up on, I already have an 'A'."

"Honey, you can't skip class for me. I'll be fine."

"No dad," Alexis turns on the stool to face him, "you're on pain killers, that can only lead to trouble. Do we really need to review the root-canal incident in front of Kate?"

"I," fear crosses his face, "no, no you're right pumpkin."

"Root-canal incident?" Kate repeats.

"Not important!" Castle calls. But when Alexis turns back to her she mouths, 'tell you later.'

"What about if he comes with me to rehearsal, Kate dear, you can pick him up on your way home?"

"Perfect!"

"No," he brusks, face pressed to fist, pouting. "I don't want to sit through a rehearsal, they are so boring!"

"Come now darling, it will be like old times," Martha comes to pinch him on the cheek, "you used to love running around the theatre when I was acting out scenes."

"I was ten, mother."

She leans into his ear and lowers her voice, "you will make this easier on Kate if you know what's good for you." His stunned look tells her she's gotten through to him.

"Good then, it's decided," she pats him on the shoulder before turning to the room, "good night all, thank you, Kate, for dinner, . . . among other things."

Alexis is loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher while Kate wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind, her hands resting on his broad chest.

"Don't worry, Castle, I'll make it worth your while on Friday, okay?"

His hands come to squeeze her crossed arms to himself, "you don't have to make up for anything, this isn't your fault."

"I'm going to run home and get some things I need, but I'll be back tonight."

He sighs and reluctantly lets her go.

"Alexis is parent sitting, pain pills at 9," she calls over her shoulder, scooping up her coat and keys.

* * *

Popcorn and _Air Force One_."

"Oh good a classic," he says snuggling his daughter on the couch, "the screenwriting in this is fantastic."

"You know dad, you are so lucky."

"I have a broken knee and I'm hostage to it for the next 6 weeks, how is that lucky?"

"Kate, dad. She's been totally helpful this whole time. Did you know she dealt with all your insurance and therapy appointments? She's got it all worked out. Plus, she took the day off of work today to get you all settled in, but tomorrow she's got to go back to the precinct and she hasn't really had a restful weekend. I'm just glad she wants to take care of you. You're a handful, in case you didn't know?"

He smiles at her, and squeezes her shoulders, tucking her head under his chin, "I know."

* * *

He doesn't stir when she finally slips into his bed, and she's glad for it. She doesn't really want to start anything in his altered state, but it's lovely to snuggle up, lean her head into his shoulder, wrap both her arms around one of his tree-trunk biceps. Close her eyes and breath him in.

Lovely.


	4. Chapter 4

Nobody's Ever Done That For Me, Chapter 4

"Yo, Beckett, how's Castle?" Esposito and Ryan close in on her the very moment she sets down her bag and plops into her chair.

"Full leg cast, can't bend it." She says arranging things as the men settle, waiting for more information from her.

"Is he okay?"

"Oh he's fine, it's just going to take some time to heal. He just needs a lot of help right now."

Esposito smirks, "Three women at his beck and call? Guys gotta be in heaven."

Beckett shoots him a look, before Ryan interrupts, "So how long until he's back?"

Her gaze is fixed defiantly on Esposito, "I am not at his beck and call, and the doctor says six weeks recovery." And quick look to each other before both men look at her, pity shining.

"Oh."

"Wow."

She returns them a scathing glare, narrowing her eyes "we got a case yet?"

The boys fill her in on the crime scene. Business man, gunshot wounds, alley on the wrong side of his world. When Kate leaves to talk over the case with Lanie, Esposito turns to Ryan over the coffee machine.

"This is gonna be bad."

"This case?"

"No," Esposito says exasperated, "her, without Castle."

"Been gone before."

Espo shakes his head at his partner, "And you don't remember how she was? All short-tempered and and uptight? Nah, Beckett without Castle is like Beckett without caffeine."

Ryan smirks at him, "So, like you, after our game last week."

"Man, I will take you on any day. Talent beats luck eventually."

"You want to beat somebody? Castle's got no luck right now."

* * *

"Oh Kate, dear, thank God you are back," his mother's holding a glass of wine and an air of exasperation, "I may be the actor, but my son is all drama."

With that, she watches the older woman fairly jump from her place on the couch and sweep up the stairs, calling over her shoulder, "Dinner's in the oven, ready in an hour. I need a break."

"Kate!" She closes her eyes a moment before gathering her energy to meet the bed-ridden partner calling for her.

He's surrounded by dirty dishes and toys; remote controls, his laptop, pillows, a small tank.

When he sees her in the doorframe his face lights up, "Thank God you're home Kate, I really have to pee."

She frowns at his words, "Castle, what on earth have you been up to?" She's already picking up the comforter from the floor as she approaches the bed. Tossing it over him and onto her side of the bed, then reaching for the parts of the newspaper, also on the floor, when he whines at her.

"Kate, forget that stuff, this is an emergency!"

Her poker face on, she stands up and hovers over him, newspapers still in hand, "Let me guess, you didn't let your mother help you?"

"Have you met my mother?" Complete disbelief crossing his face, "Just help me, please?"

They've developed a system, rather than focusing on his too-heavy-for-her-body, she just focuses on making sure the bad leg doesn't get jostled when he moves. They manage to get him to standing and he hops on his good leg while she helps support his bad side. He talks the whole way, even after she closes the door between them.

She sighs and leans against the wall outside the bathroom, waiting for him.

"You will not believe the day I had," he calls, "mother was so mean. She took away my helicopter." She hears the water running, "She just stomped right in here and snatched it, like I'm some kid."

"Yeah?" She says half-heartedly. The door suddenly opens and he sees her there, arms braced behind her, neck bent back to touch the wall, eyes closed.

"Catch a case today?"

"Yeah." Her arms coming to support him and begin the long journey back to his side of the bed.

"Well, I want to hear about it."

"Not a lot to tell, yet. Businessman meets wrong end of a gun, pretty far off the beaten path. Lanie says it was a 9mm, but he was shot five times."

"Overkill, whoever killed him, knew him," he says with certainty as she leans down to support his leg in its return to the bed.

"Yes, I know Castle, I may even have taught you that." She's already fluffing and rearranging the pillows behind him, tossing her pillow back on her side of the bed, she goes to work on the sheets and blankets.

"Okay _Detective_, what did you find out about the family?"

"Wife was still at work at the time of death, one kid still in high school, at a basketball game." She's grabbing cups and plates from his overloaded bedside stand.

"I'll bet he was cheating with someone. Standard murder: mistress shoots the cheater because he won't leave his wife."

"Haven't found any evidence that says he was cheating," she calls, exiting the room with the dishes.

"Well that's just not enough clues," he practically yells after her, "I need more information."

A moment later she returns, glass of water in hand. "If I had more information Castle, I probably could have solved it myself by now. As it is, I was coming home to make sure you are okay."

She sets down the water about the same moment she feels his fingers at her waist. When she looks, there's nothing but devotion in his eyes and she moves close enough for him to drag her down to sit beside his reclining form.

"Hey," he says wrapping his arms around her and enjoying the feel of her arms circling his neck, "I missed you today."

"I missed you too," She pecks his lips, "how's the pain?"

"Better when you do that."

She pecks his lips again, "How's that?"

He raises his eyes to the ceiling, assessing, "I feel tingling all over, I think it might be working."

She scratches at his scalp, knows he likes it when she uses her nails, and rubs her nose against his before opening her mouth to really enjoy kissing him. He's leaning into her when they hear his mother calling for her.

"Take your pain pill Castle, and I'll get you dinner, okay?"

"K."

He doesn't move his arms from around her even when she twists to leave him, and he pulls at her fingers until they are his last point of contact.

* * *

Kate's chopping vegetables for a salad as Martha complains.

"He drove me crazy all day today! Honestly, darling, I don't know how you've put up with it, all these years of him following you around." Martha's leaned over the oven poking at potatoes. "Even as a child, Richard made the worst patient. Doesn't like being cooped up. Do you know I had to go physically remove that helicopter of his? Damn thing was buzzing for hours in there." The woman uses a knee to close the oven door.

"Richard, of course," and she looks directly at the younger woman, "does not seem to notice what annoys others."

"Yeah, well, I admit he can get under people's skin, but he's hurt and you're right, he doesn't like being stuck in bed. I don't mind helping him, he's helped me plenty over the years."

"You are wearing blinders of love, my dear," the red-head snatches a carrot from Kate's counter, "I suppose you're entitled, haven't known him as long as I have."

Kate openly laughs at her.

"You know, I rather enjoy your laugh, I'm glad to hear it in Richard's home. It's been easier without Alexis than I ever dreamed, and that, in no small part, is thanks to you."

"We're partners," Kate can't help a swallow, and a swell of pride.

"We'll you two are obviously having fun, such a shame about Bora-Bora."

Kate sets down her knife and turns toward the woman, "About that. What do you usually do on Castle's birthday? I mean, do you have a tradition?"

"Oh that's entirely up to him, my dear. He usually picks a restaurant. Alexis and I find a little gift for him. You know, the usual thing families do."

"This year, it's his 40th, I was thinking, he'll still be in that wheelchair, but I'd like to do something fun. A party? Maybe surprise him somehow?"

Martha pulls back, a bit of warmth in her grey eyes, "why I think that's a lovely idea. What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know, I haven't really thought it through yet, I was just thinking out loud."

"Well you mention that to Alexis when you see her tomorrow, I think she might have a few ideas. I'll help where I can. I just need to get through this weekend's production and figure out what's next for my students."

He bellows out her name, half whine, have demand.

"Sounds like your Prince Charming wants his dinner."

* * *

Once they've finished dinner and the cleaning has both women well occupied and focused on pleasant conversation about her latest stage play, his dozing goes unnoticed.

When Kate turns from the sink she can see his face in hand, still propped up at the dinner table. His eyes are closed and his mouth is just slack enough that she can't help sighing at the rush of emotion she has for this man. It's been nine months, and none of her worst fears about them being together have been even remotely entertained. They're still friends. They're still partners. They're still lovers.

At the shriek of her cell phone his elbow drops and he catches himself a moment before his face hits the table.

"Beckett," and then a pause as she listens, "be right there."

"Mmff, break in the case?" He mumbles, rubbing a hand down his face. She's already behind him wheeling him into his bedroom.

"Let's get you to bed," she says ignoring the question, "I'll be back later."

"Wait, he says as they wheel by the coffee table. My helicopter!"

She sneaks a peek at Martha, still finishing in the kitchen, before she snatches it and tosses it in his lap and out of his mother's sight.

"Don't tell your mother," she hisses and then kisses him on top of the head.

* * *

As it turns out, her victim is having an affair. A platinum blond about ten years younger than her victim and sporting a wedding band. She broke into his house for one reason, and all Kate can think when Ryan and Esposito snicker, hiding a full out belly laugh in front of the handcuffed suspect, is that Castle is going to _love_ this.

* * *

She can hear him from the front door as soon as she comes in, he's snoring. She's teased him about it before, it only really happens when his neck is in a weird position, and he keeps telling her if she wants him to stop, she should cuddle up.

She showers quickly and exits the bathroom to find him with every pillow on the bed propping him up and his head bent back at awkward angle. Her pillow is in the pile, and she wonders if he did that on purpose.

"Castle?" she prods softly, with no response and no pause in the lumber project. She tries his name progressively louder, but nothing's waking the dead.

She leans into his chest, pulls his arms around her and whispers in his ear, "Castle, I'm cold."

His arms tighten and she smiles tucking her head under his chin, she uses her weight to pull on him. He is far more suggestible in his sleep. "Tighter." As he lifts up, she pushes all the pillows out from under him, except one.

"Rick," she whispers, "lay back."

He's got a great big smile on his face when she lets him go, and she's fairly certain she knows exactly which dreams her words triggered. She pats him on the chest and curls up next to him.


	5. Chapter 5

He pushes his arm against the mattress and under her, bringing her lithe body closer without twisting his torso. He can see the back of her head an he buries himself in the loose tendrils of her hair, kisses the back of her neck. The only acknowledgement is her soft sigh and the shiver of her body snuggling into his.

She is so much more than he ever dreamed. They have so much more than his writer's imagination ever envisioned, and so much of it is right here. He knew they were partners in work, knew they'd be great in bed, but he didn't expect being able to depend on her. For a man with two ex-wives and a free spirited mother, he's never been so balanced. He's been so busy taking care of Alexis all these years, he didn't even know he was missing it, someone to take care of him.

* * *

He wakes to Alexis holding a breakfast tray.

"Kate says you should take your pills," the redhead encourages, pushing the tray at him.

"Morning pumpkin," he greets and presses a kiss to her cheek as she leans down.

"I am here to feed you, help you, and beat you at Guitar Hero. Not necessarily in that order."

"Kate already leave?" He scoots over to allow his girl to share the headboard as a backrest.

"Yes, but she left you a note. I assume it is to protect my innocent eyes." She produces the scrap of paper.

"Your innocent eyes need to stay that way," he shoots her a warning look, which earns him a Beckett-worthy eye roll. "You missing class?"

"No class on Wednesday, I'll just attend bio lab on another day."

He unfolds Kate's note:

_Let Alexis help you, she wants to feel useful._

_Mistress broke in last night to steal vic's parrot._

_Shower when I get home. Order in? –K_

He shakes his head in confusion, "What?"

* * *

He knows sometimes she ignores his texts on purpose, but he figures the broken bone gives him some license. He's asked her about the damn parrot three times now, but she isn't biting. To top it off, the distraction just cost him a life in his Batman video game.

Although neither one acknowledge it, he knows his daughter has lost respect for him after he loses on level four of Guitar Hero. Level_ four_.

Alexis reads him the paper when he tells her the words are "swimmy." After an article on the rising tax on imported live animals, he seems fixated.

"Wonder why the mistress would take a parrot? I mean," he theorizes, "what's the thing going to do? Blab about how she killed her lover? The guy was shot in an alley across town."

He lets his daughter help him to the bathroom, but their coordination with his leg is not like it is with Kate, and he tells her so. Repeatedly.

"Kate usually holds my heel, just support it," he pauses to take in a deep breath, "not so high, ow, jeez, just drop it . . . on the bed! Drop it go on the bed! Are you trying kill me?"

"I'm sorry, dad," she says just as exasperated, "I'm not Kate, I don't know what to do for you."

He takes a deep breath and removes the hand covering his eyes. "I'm sorry pumpkin, this isn't your fault."

"I'm sorry you're hurt, but I hope you aren't like this with Gram and Kate." She pulls the covers over him, pushing it around him, a little roughly, "now, what would you like for lunch?"

"Ice cream? He says hopefully and trying to make her smile. Her scowl twitches and she leaves the room without an answer.

* * *

Ryan hands her the mug as she finishes her story, "Nope, just left him a note telling him the mistress attempted to steal the bird."

"Beckett, come on, you know that's going to drive a guy like him crazy," Ryan's always been quick to take Castle's side.

"Yeah, well, seems like he's doing that well enough on his own. I just thought a little fodder for his writer's imagination might keep him entertained."

"I just feel bad for the guy," Ryan empathizes, "stuck at home while we have all the fun."

Kate sighs and sips her coffee.

* * *

"So let me just read what I already wrote," Alexis says, looking up from her crossed-leg spot at the foot of his bed. "Nothing that involves standing or walking, for the obvious reasons," she says tapping her pencil on his casted leg, "nothing that involves 'letters' as you say, because of the pain pills; no fast reflexes," and then she whispers, "as evidenced by Guitar Hero."

"Hey!" And then he thinks about it a moment, "ooh, maybe the parrot swallowed something, a piece of evidence?" His daughter ignores him.

"That leaves movies and . . . snacking," she says with relish, kissing him on the cheek and jumping off the bed.

"No complicated plots!" He yells after her, "and nothing with Taylor Lautner, I know those abs are airbrushed."

* * *

Kate walks in to find Alexis washing dishes and greets from across the living room, "Hey."

"Hey, dad's asleep, again."

"How long?"

"About five minutes into Breaking Dawn 2. Just finished it, so about two hours ago. I'll wake him up, but I have an Environmental Club meeting at six, so I need to go."

"Wait, Alexis, I wanted to talk with you about his birthday." It gives Alexis pause and she slides into a seat at the kitchen counter next to Kate. "I know how important his birthday is to you, but I wanted to help you plan something special."

"You know he bought those tickets to Bora-Bora just after Valentine's Day, Kate, so I didn't have a plan. Poor dad, he's so bored now, he's going to be impossible in another week."

Kate gives the girl a side-squeeze in sympathy, "our cross to bear."

"Well next time, if you are going to leave him clues in your parrot mystery, the least you could do was warn me."

The detective chuckles, "couldn't turn him off?"

"The man thrives on creating a story around a mystery."

"Yes," Kate says, her awareness suddenly growing, "he does love a mystery! Alexis, what if he had a mystery to solve while he's laid up?"

"You mean like one of those mystery dinner parties?"

Thinking of the cheesy melodramas, she knows this isn't going to fly with Castle, "maybe a little more complicated than that, I think we are going to need your grandmother's help."

* * *

"Dad? I need to go now," he wakes to the kiss his daughter plants on his cheek, "Kate's here, I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, okay?"

"Mmmkay, love you, pumpkin."

The moment he hears the front door close, he calls her name, knowing it sounds scratchy with sleep.

She appears in the doorway, "Hey there, sleepy, you miss me?"

"Get over here and tell me about the damn parrot."

* * *

He has an amazing view of her as she lays parallel to him, one of her elbows hooked over his head on the pillow, the other hand fidgeting with his collarbone, lightly circling his brow, caressing him as she tells her tale.

"So Holly, the mistress, breaks in to our victim's place to steal the parrot, and the wife catches her red-handed."

"I love this already."

"Don't interrupt, now, you have to know that Holly is a buxom platinum blond, short skirts, and let's just say she lives up to her looks in the brain department."

"So all bubbles, no champagne?"

"Temptation for you?"

"Eh, I prefer brains over beauty." She gives him the eye on that one.

"Good answer."

"Although I'm hoping beauty will give me a sponge bath tonight."

She stops her mindless circles on his chest and pokes him instead.

"Ow, Kate," he grabs her hand before she can pull away.

"Press your luck," she mutters as he pulls her down to steal a kiss, dragging her across his body so she's looking down at him when they come up for air. "You want a sponge bath or you want to hear my story?"

"I know how I'm supposed to answer . . ." his eyebrow waggles at her, but he doesn't let go of her. She crosses her arms on his chest and rests her chin, looking at him.

"Let me help you choose, because when I get Holly in the interview room, she finally tells me that she isn't there to steal the parrot, she's there to take the cage. But she can't get the cage without the bird, and she can't leave the house without it squawking."

"The cage?"

"Apparently these bigger cages have several pans that fit inside each other on the bottom. Our victim was using one of them to hide a second set of books, a set that showed he'd embezzled thousands, the mistress was the office manager, she'd been helping him."

"So she confessed?"

"To the embezzlement, but not the murder."

"Then who did it?"

"Lanie had evidence that his last meal was Indian food, and there was a restaurant not far from where he was found."

"Are you saying this case had a parrot, Indian food, and a hot mistress? God, I miss the precinct."

"Shush, let me finish."

"Stretch it out, I've got nowhere to be." He rubs her back, squeezing her a little. She grins at him.

"So we checked with the restaurant, he was having dinner with, according to Esposito, a Ryan-look-a-like."

"Oh the twists!" He says it about the same time his hands slides lower than her waist. She lightly shakes her head at him, but doesn't scold.

"Oh, it gets better. The Ryan-look-alike? He's a Wall Street broker, and the Vic's _other_ affair."

"No way!"

"We hauled him in and Esposito broke him. Shot the victim when he tried to break off their affair." And then she considers, angling her eyes, "he _did_ look surprisingly like Ryan."

"Now_ that_ was a great story, Detective."

"Yeah?" A surge of pride across her face.

"And so very well told," he lifts his head to kiss her, "I want to hear another one."

"Oh, I thought you wanted a sponge bath, but okay, there are these two murder victims . . ."

He grabs the back of her head, bringing her to him suddenly, and kisses her, hard.

* * *

"What a wonderful idea Kate! Keep him occupied with a mystery, might make his recovery a little less taxing on everyone," his mother is in her element. "Only, how on earth is he going to play gumshoe from a wheelchair?"

"You know," Kate says strolling to the window to glance to the building across the street, "I think I have an idea about that too."

* * *

"You ready for physical therapy tomorrow?" she says slipping between the sheets beside him.

"You want to practice with me tonight?"

"My god, the innuendo. How did I survive all day without you turning every phrase into something dirty?" She shifts to snuggle into his chest, his arm coming around her, her arm slung over his chest.

"It's a gift. You know Kate, we don't have to just talk about dirty, we can actually _do_ something about it."

"I don't think we can do what you think we can do, Castle."

"You have no idea what I think I can do."

"How about this? I'll let you think about what you can do, and Friday can be date night."

"That's two whole days away!"

"And you have a broken knee, so who do you think is going to have to do all the work?"

"Hey, the important parts of me still work!"

"Okay, then you can wait until Friday. Can we please not argue about this now?"

It's silent for a moment, before he speaks into the darkness.

"Kate?"

"Hmmm?"

"Waiting for you is the best part of my life."

She squeezes him tighter.


	6. Chapter 6

She wakes him with a bedside cup of coffee.

"Hey," she smiles down at him.

"Hey," he moves to sit up, taking the mug from her hand, "I love mornings with you."

"Well you don't get me all morning, Esposito called, I have a case."

"Oh, no, seriously, Kate, take me with you." She throws him a skeptical look, settling herself cross-legged next to him.

"You have other appointments today, partner. Physical therapist is supposed to be here in a few minutes."

"I promise I'll stay in the car, Kate."

"Castle."

"Or sit by your desk? Isn't that all I ever do anyway?"

She raises her eyebrows at him. "How come when I say that, you're offended?" And then she avoids his eyes by sipping her coffee.

Now it's his turn to shoot her a dubious look.

"Oh, listen Castle, maybe you'll get lucky and the physical therapist will be some young, blond, perky thing."

He brightens, "And you wouldn't feel threatened?"

"In your present condition?" She laughs and takes another sip before adding, "Besides, never know who _I'll _meet today."  
He scoffs at her.

* * *

"Oh, hi," a voice greets her as she bends to grab the newspaper outside the front door. "I'm Ben, the-agency sent me." He slows down his words, his appreciation of her evident.

"The physical therapist? Hi, I'm Kate. Rick's inside. Come on in." And she steps back to let him and his giant suitcase through the door.

The buff, 30-something blond moves to shake Castle's hand, "So nice to meet you, Rick. Broken kneecap, huh? We'll get you mobile in no time, how'd it happen?"

"Uh, skiing accident."

"Let me just get things set up and we'll get started." He sets about spreading a yoga mat on the floor of the living room.

"And now that he's here, I need to head to work," Kate comes to grab her suit jacket off the couch, and leans in to peck his lips and whispers in his ear, "he's young and blond Castle, all good for you."

He's got the belt loop on her jeans, so she can't pull away, "Don't solve any cases without me."

"Scouts honor," she says, tapping her forehead against his.

* * *

"So, your wife seems nice," Ben tells him in an effort to distract. He's stretching the injured leg to 90 degrees as Castle lies on the floor.

"Not my wife, but yeah, she is." He's a little breathless with the effort.

"Just that usually this kind of thing, injuries like yours, puts a lot of stress on a relationship." The man moves the injured limb to a crossed body position, adding, "Keep your hips down."

"No, yeah, Kate's great. Ow."

"Really important we strengthen these thigh muscles while your knee is healing. Sit up, legs out. So, what is it you do, Rick?" And now this Ben-person is pulling on his arms, does he not know his fingers were not meant to ever meet his toes?

"Writer," he squeaks out.

"Oh, my sister does some writing. She self-publishes on Amazon, says it's pretty easy, ever try that?" He lets go of the solid push he's sustaining on Rick's back, keeping his patient's chest over his legs. "Flip over."

Castle looks up at the man a moment, "maybe you didn't catch my whole name. Richard Castle?" He raises an eyebrow in expectation.

"Yeah," Ben says absently, "right, but you go by Rick?"

"I'm actually fairly well known in the publishing world, I write crime stories." Ben shakes his head, no light dawning, Castle tries again. "Richard Castle? Master of the Macabre?" Ben's lips scrunch together and he shakes his head again. "Heat Wave? Naked Heat? Heat Rises? Frozen Heat?"

"Nope, sorry, not familiar, but then I don't read much." _Figures_.

"Derrick Storm? The comic books?"

"I love comic books, what was it about? Maybe I read one once?" Castle glares at him and turns over.

* * *

"Dad, he was totally cute!" Alex tells him. Ben barely out the door.

He rolls his eyes at her, "He's a sadist."

She tilts her head, "Oh Dad, just because he hasn't read your books, doesn't make him a sadist, we've talked about this before."

"My butt still hurts, that's what makes him a sadist." He says twisting away from his bad leg to rub his own hip.

"Too much information, we've talked about that before too." She walks past him to bring him his pills. "He told me he'd have Dr. Miller call in a new prescription, something that might make you less sleepy. Maybe then you can get back to writing."

"That'd be good, pumpkin, now, help me to the bathroom." He wheels himself toward the bedroom and pauses at the threshold, looking back at his daughter. "What?"

"You gonna complain if I don't help you like Kate does?"

"I never complained," he starts and then thinks about it, "that much." He gives her his best puppy face, lips puckered, wide-eyes blinking.

"Who's the sadist now?" she says shaking her head and following him.

* * *

"Got a sec?" Kate asks Esposito as they finish updating the murder board. Ryan approaches at the right moment, extending a cup of coffee to Kate and earning himself open handed, 'what-about-me?' expression from Esposito.

"Sure, what's up?" Ryan responds for both the detectives.

"I need your help on something, it's for Castle, so you know, feel free to say 'no'."

"Think it might be too late for all of us on that one, Beckett," It earns him a punch in the arm from his lead detective and smirk from his partner.

"Jeez, all that hauling Castle around has turned you freakishly strong," he complains.

"Yeah, well, I only have room in my life for one injured partner, so you going to help me or not?"

"I'll help," Ryan raises his hand.

* * *

She'd like to finish this search of phone records before she goes home, so it does help that Castle isn't pestering her from his chair next to her desk.

Alexis texts her to ask she pick up Castle's prescription on her way home, and that she's officially passed the baton of her father's care to her grandmother. Five minutes after that, the texts from Castle come fast and furious.

_Any new cases?_ (tiny icons of coffee cups and hearts follow)

_What time will you be home?_

_Ben tried to kill me! Can you come home and investigate?_

_Alexis tell you about the new prescription?_

_Can you pick up me up some Twizzlers when you get my pills? _

_My mother made me lunch, she's trying to kill me. Come home._

Sometime after she mutes her phone she notices Ryan has been on his for a while. Suddenly suspicious she calls across the bullpen, "that better not be Castle."

"Gotta go," is all she hears the detective say.

* * *

"Oh thank goodness you are home," she knows Castle's mother to be melodramatic, but there is a genuine sense of relief in her voice.

"I cannot deal another minute with his boredom, in fact if I heard your name one more time dear . . . " at that moment they both hear him calling Kate's name.

"That's it." His mother says with finality, "Kate dear, I am going to need to start calling you by your given name, my son has simply ruined your moniker for me."

And then she's yelling loud enough for her son to hear in the next room, "Hold your horses Richard, she'll be there in a moment."

Kate doesn't quite know what to say, before she can respond though, Martha is grabbing her hands and leading her to the table. "So, what did you come up with, Katherine?"

Oh, right, _the plan_. She grabs her notes from the pocket of her jacket. "So the guys and I decided we needed to create a few scenes for Castle to inadvertently see to believe our little rouse, here's the list. And I checked on that apartment across the way, it's a sublet and the new tenant won't be here until mid-April. I already made the owner an offer by email; I'm waiting for a response."

"Oh my, yes, this is good," the older woman says of the list, "what a wonderful exercise for our improve skills. We'll start right away with rehearsals on Monday." She sets the paper down and covers the younger woman's hand with her own. "This is a lovely idea, my dear."

"Kate? What are you doing?" They hear him yell.

"Katherine, you are a saint, I don't know how I'm going to handle him all day tomorrow at rehearsals, but for tonight, he's all yours." She waves her hand with the air of medium cleansing a house of evil spirits.

"Bye Martha," she watches the woman swirl out of the living room.

She decides she needs their usual order of Chinese food before she gives him the new medicine.

* * *

"Well," she says from the door frame, "I don't know what you did to your mother, but I'm hoping if we switch to these," she waves the little bag from the pharmacy, "that you'll scale back your insanity to more normal levels."

"Ha, ha, Kate. And you should be happy, I let my mother help me." She crawls across the bed from her side.

"Good boy," she teases curling up against the headboard next to him.

He can't help but lean in for a kiss, "I really missed you today."

"Me too."

She slides her hand up his arm and over his shoulder as he takes her mouth, her little moan spurring him on. In a moment he's lifting forward, using his powerful arms and twisting her over his lap, she ends up cradled to him, and he squeezes her and angles to kiss her more deeply.

"Wow, Mr. Castle, you did miss me," she whispers.

"Don't need to miss you to do this," and he kisses her again to prove it.

The doorbell interrupts them.

"Chinese food," she tells him, smoothing a hand against his arm.

"Promise me we'll come back to this." He rocks her shoulders a bit, his face a mask of disappointment.

"You kidding? You and I will always come back to this." And she lifts up to peck his lips one more time before pushing herself off the bed.

"Oh, Castle?" She calls, using her sexy voice, "You ready for a little picnic?" She's balancing a tray in one hand with plates and silverware, a bag of food, and a red checkered cloth under the other arm. She preps the bed and he helps where he can, working in tandem, like partners should.

"So," she says picking at their selections with her chopsticks, "how was Ben?"

"Kate, seriously, man may never have had read a book without pictures. I also think he might be CIA, he knows how to torture." She hums her laugh at him. He tells her all the different positions he was manipulated into during the session.

"And my butt still hurts." He reaches back to rub his own rump.

"Oh," she exaggerates, "poor baby."

"Is it too cliché to ask you to kiss my ass, Beckett?" His reward is her full out laugh and fortune cookie tossed at his chest.

* * *

She watches him with adoring eyes as she un-wraps her own fortune cookie. It's tradition to read these out loud at the precinct, and it's expected here.

He's a little excited that his seems to be related to his present position: _A merry heart does good like a medicine._

"See, this is perfect Kate, my mother just needs to keep me merry and I'll heal."

She ignores him and reads hers aloud; "_A single conversation with a wise man is better than ten years of study."_

"Ha! Your fortune was about me too."

She rolls her eyes at him and begins filling the tray with the leftovers and trash.

"What? I am the wise man and we have conversations all the time, you have thousands of years of study just by knowing me, Kate."

Tray full she climbs off the bed, "ah, but you are forgetting one thing." She's headed out the door when she calls over her shoulder, "it says wise man, not wise ass."

"Your attitude is not making me merry," he hollers.

When she reappears to collect the picnic cloth, she stops by the bathroom and he hears the water running. When she returns, he's wrapped up the cloth for her. "Just toss it on the laundry room floor, Elina's here tomorrow. You going to take a bath?"

"I thought it might help your backside, did you mind when we got the cast wet the other day?"

He can't help the look he gives her.

She finally caves and asks, "What?"

"You're running a bath for me?"

"Castle, you are on pain medication, what kind of a caregiver would I be if I left you unattended in the bath? I'm not running a bath for you," she comes around to his side of the bed, "I'm running a bath for us. Now let me help you take your clothes off," she sets a finger over his lips and shakes her head at him, "I'm joining you for a nice, relaxing bath, do not ruin it."

He kisses that finger over his lips.

Getting him into the tub isn't as hard as she thought, its generous size makes it comfortable for two and he sits on the edge, swings both legs in, and uses his good leg to lower himself into the water, together, they set his injured leg on the edge of the tub. He sinks back in, resting his head on the pillow she added when she started staying over, it's heavenly. He watches her light a few candles. She has a thing for the lavender scented ones, and he's stocked up to encourage moments like these.

Kate watches him a moment with her hand over the light switch before dimming the room. He watches her pull her shirt from her pants and she undoes the buttons, not in the tease, like he's seen her do before, but in a slow, thoughtless way. As if she's completely comfortable, the way she'd be even if she were bathing alone. He wants to respect her wishes, but when she lets her pants drop and she's standing in her underwear, he can't help but let his eyes enjoy the sight. She steps out of her pants and steps to the closet a pile for wash and a pile for dry-cleaning, both of which the maid takes care of a few times a week. It sure makes things easier on her when she stays with him.

She's naked when she closes the closet door, allowing him a full view. He watches her bring that beautiful body close to him and it strikes him again just how lucky he is.

"Scootch," she says, her hands coming to his shoulders for balance, pushing him forward so she can slip behind. It's not their usual position, she usually likes to lean on his chest and he has access to all his favorite parts of her. This time though, she bends her knees, gets her feet beside his hips and pulls him back to lean on her shoulder, her chest to his back. She wraps her arms around his chest and hugs her to him.

"Hmmmm," she hums at his temple. She's brought a long a big natural sponge and she keeps one hand around him and uses the other to soak the sponge, squeezing it to allow the water to sluice over his chest, across his shoulders, down his neck.

"Need to get rid of this stubble," she whispers, not wanting to break the spell. He wraps his hands around her knees, and leans his head back far enough to see her face, "yeah."

"I do think it's sexy though, reminds me of when we first started working together." She squeezes a bit of soap on a cloth, lathers it, and scrubs down his chest; rinses, repeats. She does his hair and face, and when she's finished with him, she does her own hair, rinses them both down with the detached sprayer. And for a while they both lay there, her arms wrapped around his chest, his arms holding hers in place.

"I want to know about your day," he whispers, his head lolling to one side.

"Water's getting cold."

"We can warm it up," he's already reaching for the knobs, "I just want to stay like this a while."

"Yeah," she says, kissing his ear, "me too."


	7. Chapter 7

"I am telling you man, he's got to take the body out in garbage bags. Make him look all psycho and stuff." Esposito has practically ripped the arm off the steamer driving his point across.

"No, you have to do it classier," Ryan tosses, "wrap the body up in a curtain."

"Dude, who wraps a body in a curtain anymore? This isn't _Gone With The Wind_."

"Do we have a second victim?" Turns out Victoria Gates has the stealth skills of a cartoon Road Runner.

"Ah," Ryan swipes at the counter where half is coffee now puddles, "no Sir, we were just discussing how to hide a body."

Gates cocks her head and scrunches up her face, considering both men.

"Well, Sir, actually," Esposito eyes his partner, "we were thinking about Castle."

Her face brightens considerably before she responds, "Oh, I thought you liked Mr. Castle."

"No, Sir, I mean yes, Sir," the younger detective starts, "you don't understand, we weren't planning on killing Castle."

Iron shakes her finger at them, "Just who _were_ you plan on killing, detectives?"

Recognizing when he needs back-up, Esposito backs up to the door frame, sticks his head out, and yells across the bullpen, "Beckett!"

* * *

"Come on, darling, you and I are going to get past this little drama and move on with our day," his mother is far too chipper for a woman who has just ran his good leg into the corner of the couch.

He rubs his knee, trying to take the sting out. But when she cuts the wheelchair too close to the doorframe and almost smashes his hand, he's quick to respond, "Mother, I think I can manage it myself."

She pats him on the shoulder, "Yes, well, I wouldn't want my son to waste those big, strong arms."

* * *

Beckett gives the eye to her partners when she finds Gates with her hands on her hips, both men cornered.

"There a problem, sir?"

"She overheard us talking about Castle," Ryan says, hanging his head as though he's just shot a puppy.

"Oh, Sir," she says, "Castle and I . . ." Fear crossing the female detective's face.

"have been partners a long time," Esposito finishes, "so throwing him a surprise party where we _act out a murder_ to trick him into coming to the location would be a great idea."

"Oh, I love those mystery dinner theatre parties!" The woman has turned wide-eyed to fully face Beckett and her partners desperately shake their heads behind their boss's back.

"Well, Sir, I'm sure Castle would be happy if you can join us," the lead detective starts, "the mystery is actually not at the party."

"That's what we were discussing earlier, Sir, hiding a body," Ryan slows when Gates glare, "not, not an actual body, just to make it look like a body was moved."

"No one is going to die in this scenario Sir, Castle's mother is helping us set him up to see a fake murder. She has students from her acting school playing the roles. The broken knee has him a little bored at home."

"I see. Well I look forward to seeing how this will play out where Mr. Castle is concerned. Seems to me like if he's as capable as you claim, Detective Beckett, he'll be able to figure out your rouse." And with that, the Captain moves past the gap-mouthed detectives and to the door, where she turns and finishes, "let me know if I can help. And, for my money, best way to move a body is in a rolled up rug."

When the woman is gone, Kate points a finger at them, furious, "Now we're gonna need three rugs."

* * *

"Once again, from the top," Martha singsongs.

"_Cal, I'm not who you think I am, I have a secret. A terrible secret."_ Castle lip-syncs to the lead actresses words.

Castle can't help but bury his face in his hand, it isn't going to keep him entertained. He finds his phone, but Kate's already learned to ignore his messages and he really doesn't want to risk date night.

The screen says he has three messages, but when he listens, he's disappointed to find one from his doctor's office, one from Paula, his publicist, and one from Ben, the Gestapo member:

"_Hope you're doing your exercises!"_

He's just sinking into his Mezzanine front-row funk, when he gets a message from Kate.

_Miss you._

He smiles to himself, she knows when he needs her. He keeps telling her they're Wonder Twins, keeps trying to explain it, but she's never seen the cartoon, and frankly he could do without the spotlight on their age difference.

He starts and stops several texts to her; silly, whiney, begging, none seems right. He finally settles on what he really needs her to know.

_Can't wait to see you._

He's rewarded with her single letter response: _x_

A sigh on his lips, he leans forward on the balcony rail to watch the scene in front of him unfold, again.

* * *

She's gotten an email back from the guy who owns the apartment on the 10th floor of the building across the street from the loft. He's game for her to stage things there, for a price.

It's ultimatum time, either cross the threshold or let it go. Ironically, Castle's the one she'd talk this over with; the one whose judgment she trusts. Her indecision is written all over her face when Esposito catches her.

"Problem, Beckett?"

"No, no, just thinking, anything new on our case?"

The Hispanic detective takes advantage of Castle's empty chair, "Waiting on ballistics. Ryan's working up the luds now. What's new on the party plan?"

She leans forward in her chair, considering him a moment before spilling her insecurity. "Just, do you think I can pull this off Javi? I mean really? Is he going to see right through this whole thing?"

"Beckett first, you aren't doing this alone, we all want to do this for Castle, you know? The man has wormed his way into more than just your heart. Besides, what else do you get a millionaire for his birthday?"

She laughs at that and shakes her head.

"Isn't his gift ninja rule that you give someone something they mention when they didn't think you were listening? And doesn't he ask for the perfect murder practically every week? You get that guy started down the path of suspicion; he won't be able to let it go."

He's right about Castle. _Exhibit A: first weekend in the Hamptons._

"You're right, Javi. I just really want this to go off without a hitch, you know?"

"Listen, you know he appreciates a good con, he loves a game, Beckett, you have nothing to worry about."

"Except where to hide a fictitious crime scene and body dump without getting myself arrested."

"Oh, Kev and I got that body dump issue solved, figured we'd need a place with public access but also private property, so we don't scare the neighbors, we were thinking storage unit, you know one of those 24-hour places? Gives our guy a place to take 'the body'?"

She smiles at him before turning her attention back to her email screen. "We may only need one rug after all."

* * *

Martha isn't a texting kind of person, so she leaves a short voicemail, "Martha its Kate- Katherine," the seasoned detective can't help but smile at her own words, "the apartment is all set, I'll have the keys on Sunday night. I'll be by to pick up Castle about 5:20 or so, we'll chat then."

She runs down paper tigers for the rest of the day, grabbing a workout after four so she has an excuse to shower and to dress in her after-work outfit.

Esposito wolf-whistles at her when she comes to collect her coat from her chair, and she's relieved to find Gates office dark when she takes a quick check. "Jerk."

"Have fun," Ryan calls as both detectives wave at her, like she's a three year old and off on a trip to Disney.

* * *

When she slips in the door of the Little Black Box Theatre, she doesn't see him immediately, she does however, hear Martha's booming voice. "Darlings, if you do that beautifully in the performance as you have in that rehearsal, you'll be on your way to Broadway! Now, be back at six sharp for hair and makeup; curtain at seven!"

The detective heads for the director and it catches the writer's attention.

"Hey sexy," he calls from above her.

"Hey, watch it buddy, I have a boyfriend," she smiles and calls back when she sees it's him.

He strikes a pose. "He as good looking as me?"

She considers him a moment, "Nah, he's more Brad Pitt than Jason Bateman."

When he pouts she laughs at him, "You bring your suit? I thought you were taking me out?"

"Oh, I made plans for us tonight Ms. Beckett, don't you worry." Pure joy in his smile.

"I thought you couldn't wait to see me? You gonna come down or make me come up there?"

"Coming."

Beckett takes the moment to find Martha, while she's waiting for him. "Katherine dear," she says embracing the detective, "I got your message, things seem to be falling into place." The red-head keeps an arm around Kate's waist.

"Yes, I think they are, maybe Alexis can join us over the weekend, clarify this plan?"

"It's a date. Speaking of which, where is my son?" The older woman scans the seating area.

"Oh, we're about to leave, he was good today?"

"Don't know, hardly noticed him, I think he fell asleep on the floor up there after lunch, seemed to entertain himself better today."

"Good, I think he might be okay to stay on his own next week, which sets up your production just perfectly."

"_Our_ production dear, you are the co-lead, as it should be."

"Thank you, Martha."

"And here's my favorite child now." She says watching Castle wheel up to them. She bends down to kiss him on the cheek and patronize him a bit, "be good for Katherine." And with a wave she's off.

"You do your exercises?" Kate asks, executing a three-point turn with his wheelchair in the aisle.

"Strong thighs? Date night? You kidding? Of course I did."

She slaps him on the shoulder, arriving at the car, "where are we going?"

"Oh Kate, you know I have only one answer to that, to the bedroom. Always to the bedroom."

"Castle, I took flak from Ryan and Esposito over the dress under this coat, I'm not going to the bedroom unless you wine and dine me. I don't want you taking me for granted." She's already man-handling him in their rehearsed get-Castle-in-the-car dance. He takes advantage of her position of help and hooks a finger into the belt on her coat, pulling her further into the car and taking a peek down her chest to see her dress.

"Hey!"

"You said don't take you for granted, you didn't say not to take advantage," he smirks.

She kisses him quick and hard and then pinches his good leg, "Bad boy." And then she saucily adds, "I like it." Her smirk is the last thing he sees before she closes the car door in his face.

* * *

Then end up at a French place that he's taken her to before, it's cozy and intimate. The semi-circular booths are perfect for lots of contact, and the candle lighting makes it dream-like.

"Monsieur Castle," the maître d' greets them as Kate wheels him up to the door, "what happened?"

"Long story, Pierce." The man is taking their coats and leading them to a booth. Although he struggles into it, the seating allows for the perfect cushioning for his leg to be propped up. When he's settled, he finally spies what she's wearing. Even though he's seen the dress before, he acts like she's breathtaking. It's a green silk that clings to all her curves in just the right way, and brings out the color of her eyes.

Maybe he isn't acting.

She slides in on the opposite side of their little cove, orders a glass of wine in French along with some sparkling water for him, and sits back to review the menu.

He's surprisingly strong for a man with an inactive limb, but she helps a little when she feels his big hand snake around her back and curl at her waist to drag her closer. His chin comes to rest on her shoulder, reading the menu, "Share?"

She pats him on his good leg, "the menu or the meal?"

Pierce appears at that moment, lighting the candles on the table, "Special night?" There's a hint of mischief in the man, and the couple's position only encourages a bit of ribbing.

"Celebrating, he's been an invalid for a whole week, and I haven't shot him," she proffers, at the same moment the sommelier comes to pour their drinks.

"Ha," he says with no particular emotion, but he runs a soft circle over her hip with his thumb. Then he turns to the server, "What do you recommend?"

He considers the couple, "I think on such a lovely occasion of non-violence, that something special is required. May I suggest the chef's classic tasting menu tonight? Seventeen courses?"

Castle chokes a bit, "Pierce, look at this woman," he squeezes Beckett's shoulders. "She's beautiful."

"Enchanting, sir."

"She's put on this dress," he indicates with a Vanna White-like swoop of his hand, "for me." Kate smiles at that.

"Yes, sir," but there's a slight question in the gentleman's response. He has no idea where the storyteller is going with this.

"She rushed out of work to bring me to dinner." He does appreciate her.

"Yes, sir."

"So I believe there may be many options on how Ms. Beckett and I choose to spend our time this evening."

Castle brings the arm he had around Kate to the table, his hand to his face to hid his conversation from his companion. His mother, the actress, would be proud of the volume of his stage whisper.

"So, although your food is divine, I don't think we want to spend all our time _eating_ tonight."

Kate pokes him in the side.

The maître d' smiles, "Ah, I see sir, I think I can suggest a more reasonable option for you."

* * *

He reaches for her hand as soon as she's in the door and hung their coats. She takes it and he pulls her down into his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist, hers coming around his shoulders.

"Thank you," he whispers in her ear before kissing her sweet spot there.

"For what?" She pulls back to look at him. "Eating food from a restaurant you paid for? I told you before, I'm not putting out just because you feed me." She pecks his lips.

"No, I mean for everything Kate. You've been with me the whole time, taking care of me, making me feel better about all this."

Then his eyes widen, "you are the best girlfriend ever."

Something in his words strike her, ring with question. Echo her insecurity.

But his eyes are so mesmerizingly blue, and he doesn't need to say the words for her to feel the intensity of his love for her. She leans in to press her lips to his soft ones, the hint of their dinner still on his tongue. He needs her to feel his appreciation, his dedication, his love for her with a gentle, unhurried lingering of his mouth on hers. He strokes a thumb along her cheek, and rests his forehead against hers.

He can't help it, "if I . . ."

"What?" she presses into his forehead. Wishes it wasn't a long standing habit between them to hesitate.

He swallows, and then whispers, "just if I tell you I love you, I want you to be comfortable with it, okay?"

There's a lump in her throat, he's always known how to undo her. She moves her head over his shoulder and tightens her arms around his neck, planting a kiss in the gap between his shirt and his neck.

She stays that way for such a long time, he isn't completely sure she's okay.

"Kate?"

He can feel her exhale, her warm breath on his skin before he hears her, "Not so good at saying it, better at showing it, I hope."

He rubs her back, his wide palms reassuring her, "you are _great_ at showing it."

"Good," she comes around to face him, "cause I've got some things to show you tonight."

"Yeah? Been looking forward to that all day. All week." He looks to the ceiling, considering, "Hell, maybe the whole time I've known you." He pecks her nose with his lips and swings his wheelchair around, taking her on the ride.

Later, when they are both side by side covered by Egyptian cotton sheets and a sheen of sweat, he reaches for her hand. "Can't say anybody else ever could show me like that."

"Better not be anybody else showing you anything."

"You Kate, only you."

She rolls over to come face to face with him, searching his eyes. He reaches out and tucks her strand of hair back into place behind her ear, caressing her jaw. "You just keep showing me, Kate. I hear your words every time."

_Fin._


End file.
